Category Archives: Stuff only I think is funny

Another yearly renewal and Lucy’s firm grasp on female anatomy

Hello and welcome to autumn – today I paid for another year of Sticky Jam Hands to exist so I’m here to write my annual ‘I don’t really have anything to say but I need to get my money’s worth’ post.

Lucy started gymnastics class on Tuesday and she really liked it – in fact she loved it (she corrected me emphatically on that point). Being a new gym Mom I did a couple things wrong, like I didn’t pull her hair back tight enough and by the end of class it was all in her face. Also I told her she needed to wear underwear under her leotard. You are not supposed to wear underwear under your leotard – apparently. But at one point during class her friend Emily (who is in the know and going commando) asked Lucy why she had on underwear to which Lucy replied” You HAVE to wear underwear Emily, otherwise everyone can see your VAGINA!”

This last weekend we had our monthly craft night – it was the only craft night I’ve been to in four months because apparently I go away every third weekend of the month. We made pickles and you can read about it here: https://artistryinalcohol.wordpress.com (a girl can’t have too many blogs, you know).

I was recently given a column to write in my company’s weekly newsletter and I was really excited about it until I submitted my first article to my boss and she sent it back with 90% of the funny red lined out and the comment, “do you think we have a sense of humor? Cause we don’t” and I wanted to write back to her and say “but we should! That’s why I’m here!” but instead I made the edits she suggested and a small part of me died inside. I’m a little less excited about this now.

 

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A List of my Latest Failures

This list is not by all means all inclusive – who has time to list ALL of my failures, even the most recent ones? No, this list is for the twelve of you – my loyal readers who think that I am just sitting back somewhere drinking Mai Tais and ignoring Sticky Jam Hands completely. This is not true – I think about it ALL the time it’s like the 2nd child that I’ll never have, I want to nurture it and fill it with only the best quality stuff, I don’t want it to get all fat and bloated with shitty writing that springs forward from me even when I try to squash it.

The list below encompasses all of the entries that I have started and wisely deleted before anyone else except Pinky could see them (Pinky is the name of my laptop – she is pink – I am very clever):

  1. “If I Were in Charge” This was a post based on what would happen if all of your dream came true and I was suddenly in charge and could makeup all of the rules. I thought it would be funny – certainly the first paragraph was really good but then the entire thing devolved into ways that we need to help the environment. I mean I know I have some strong feelings on the way we misspend our resources but come on – get off your soap box you know? I eventually deleted this post and saved some of the good parts in a word document – I feel like its material I can use if I ever go back to undergraduate school and I need to stay up late lecturing my fellow co-eds on how we can save the world.
  2.  “With no Benefit” this was a post I wrote in my head on Sunday night as I was throwing up over the side of my bed thanks to a stomach bug that Lucy picked up somewhere and selflessly shared with me – the entire thing was about how vomiting was completely unfair if not preceded with a night of black out drunk drinking – it was also a reflection of the strength of willpower that people must have to be bulimic*. Anyway – this entire thing was pretty funny but was not set down in paper so when I finally did manage to stop dry heaving and pass out the entire thing was deleted from my mental cashe file. This sadly, is what happens to a lot of my writing – it’s not really written anywhere and thus can be lost as soon as something shiny enters my field of vision.
  3.  “Dear David” This was an open letter to David Sedaris after I read his book Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls – this book was fucking funny as was my letter to him telling him so – but then I thought ‘I don’t really wasn’t to pigeon hole myself here’ – next thing you know Sticky Jam Hands just becomes an entire website devoted to letters to Authors that never read them – maybe I’ll still finish this but wait 3 or 4 months to post it – maybe I’ll completely forget and move on, Maybe I’ll decide to write to Laurie Notaro because I just finished her latest book – it’s a nail biter my friends, stay tuned!
  4.  “Down With Facebook” – I’ve been working on this post for like 2 months now ever since I decided to delete the app from my phone – it’s kinds like a follow up to Facebook is An Asshole and in it I ranted on and on about inappropriate postings (starving dogs and children that die in frighteningly bizarre and terrible ways) there are things in this world I would rather just not be aware of – you know? This post went on and on and for the majority of the time I was writing it I was only occasionally going in to Facebook on the sly – you know to see what my memories for the day are – but then a friend of mine from High School was about to have a baby – a good friend who is my age and whom I’m terribly jealous of and I started checking first thing every morning to see if he was born yet (he was born yesterday) and now I feel like I have no choice but to reinstall the app so that I can keep up with baby pictures – oh and also all of the obligatory ‘back to school photos’ oh and so I can post about how yesterday on the train I sat next to a girl dressed in leggings, a long sleeve flannel shirt and over the knee boots – I so wanted to take a picture of her with the caption “Too Soon!” and post that shit – I mean come on it was 86 degrees outside!

So there is it – at least four unpostable entries that I won’t subject you to. Please feel free to send me subject topics that you would like me to go on and on about!

*I’m in no way condoning eating disorders – I am sure they are really really bad – I’m just saying that I have always admired people’s willpower to stick with something that makes you feel so terrible.

Because Home Goods is a black hole of things I really want but don’t truly need

Things I meant to do during my stint on unemployment:

  • Go to the dermatologist
  • Organize the laundry room
  • Teach the dog to walk on a leash without pulling
  • Learn new healthy dinner recipes my whole family would love

Things I actually did do while on unemployment:

  • Find good people who were willing and able to drink wine with me at noon
  • Institute mandatory cuddle time for the first 15 minutes after coming home from kindergarten
  • Learn how to do Romanian deadlifts with a 45-pound kettle bell
  • Vacuum so much I actually broke the vacuum cleaner

Things I feel like I would do if I didn’t ever have to go back to work:

  • Become an alcoholic
  • Barricade myself in the office and write a novel I would be too terrified to actually share with anyone and would only be discovered after my death with a lot of tear stains and spelling errors
  • Committ our wifi pssword to memmory
  • Empty the litter box more often (this ones questionable, I might just teach the cat to use the toilet)

Things I’m looking forward to about going back to work:

  • Less pressure to have a clean house
  • Actually having a reason to drink in the evening
  • Not having to avoid eye contact with people who commiserate with me about how hard their jobs are
  • Less free time to spend at Home Goods

 

Apparently it’s called Solipsism

Oh look – I have a blog! I’d like to say that I haven’t been around because I’ve been diligently and single mindedly focused on my soon to be published book, but this would be a giant lie. The reason I haven’t been around is due entirely to laziness and procrastination, two areas I excel in above most others… Couple this with the fact that I can’t get to this website through my new employers firewall and it spells disaster for getting anything done.

So… how are you?

I’m good. I recently I attended a professional baseball game something I enjoy going to every five to seven years mostly to sit in the sun and drink ridiculously overpriced  beer, but also to keep me humble. Let me back up…. You see I have always imagined that despite physics and science in general that the universe and most everything in it has pretty much revolved around me. Well, that makes me sound like an asshole, let me start over – as a kid I assumed that everything that went on around me was somewhat holographic and since I was the only thing I knew to be 100% without-a-doubt real than I must exist in the center of my own universe. (I was a very philosophical preschooler). Unaware that Descartes formulated this same thought in the 15th century* I thought I was remarkably ahead of my time.

For most of the time this theory holds true – how do I know that people and events actually exist when I’m not there to observe them? I’ve always been present at everything I’ve witnessed. This isn’t a ruling manifesto of my life – it’s just something that helps especially in face of tragic events, I can somehow deal with thousands of people dying in earthquakes half a world away from me because there is a part of me that doesn’t really believe that they exist at all.

But my theory gets pretty debunked when I’m at baseball games. My baseball game attention span is approximately 3 minutes 17 seconds long. After that I have to scan the crowd for people I know, post selfies on facebook or go find the ladies room to make way for more ridiculously overpriced beer. But you know what’s amazing? When I’m in line for the ladies room and out of sight of the game, it still continues to play, people still cheer and boo and points are scored or not scored as the case may be. It amazes me every time that the players know how to keep going even when my mind isn’t focused on them.

Baseball games remind me of the time I was (probably) about 12 or 13 and home sick from school and I turned on the TV only to see Sesame street and I thought, “how is this still on, I stopped watching this years ago…” huh.

So, if you random internet reader, are anything like me (the master of your own unique universe) I would highly recommend an outing to an event that are not that interested in (this works well for all professional sports, as well as parades or Operas) to keep yourself in perspective.

You’re welcome.

*I actually just learned that this is true, thanks Internets for no longer making me feel alone. 

Because I look really good in flannel pajama bottoms

I returned to work today after a glorious thirteen day break, below are some statistics I compiled in those thirteen days:

  • It takes approximately five days off in a row to digress to my adolescent self where I stay up until 1:00 in the morning and sleep until 10:00am
  • If left alone without the pressure to entertain or be anywhere on time it takes approximately 27 minutes for our house to go from clean and ‘organized’ to complete chaos and disorder.
  • Without the burden of work or commitments I could easily spend eight hours a day coloring in princess coloring books.
  • I may be an alcoholic – this is less of a statistic and more of a general understanding of myself based of the ridiculously large quantities of wine I have consumed in the past two weeks.
  • In the past thirteen days I believe I have taken four showers and one bath (that’s a 38% bathing rate)

I have exactly 17 hours left to work at my current job (more on that later) and besides shredding all of the paper on my desk and forwarding client inquires to my new replacement I’m kinda at a loss for what to do. I have extensively researched the new HGTV dream home – I have rearranged some furniture in my head to make it perfect for my family when we move in there – I have decided which window I will set my easel up against… Come on HGTV – if you pick me to win I will totally change this blog to be all about living as a hermit in my Martha’s Vineyard dream home and spending my days drinking wine and painting the ocean… everyone would want to read that, am I right?

White Girl Problems

I have some kind of universal balance where I am not allowed to have all my shit together at once. I have a system of losing things, important thing you know like wallets, keys, driver licenses, my husbands social security card… Honestly, I’m surprised that I’ve managed to hold on to Lucy for four years and not leave her on the top of the paper towel dispenser in Chilis.

Several months ago I lost my work ID, the ID I need to get in to my building, to go to the gym, to do just about anything in or around campus. I didn’t really worry about it at the time, I go days without ever leaving my desk and who wants to shell out $20 for a replacement card if they don’t have to?

The only problem is that I get to work really early, like before almost everyone and in order to get in the building I wold loiter hooker-style outside until someone more responsible came along and opened the door so I could sneak in behind them. This went on for some time until I realized that I took the train with a vice president of something-or-other that also worked in my building and if I walked from the  station with him I could guarantee myself entry.

This worked well until he realized that I was shadowing him the three blocks to work, on purpose. Being a nice and reasonable fellow he began walking with me which meant that I now needed to make small talk with a vice president of something-or -other at 7:15 in the morning – every day. Ugh, I wont even talk to my husband at 7:15 in the morning – I only grunt and push him out of the way of the coffee maker…

Several weeks went by and I realized that I had to finally give up the $20 to regain my freedom in the morning and so one day I went to the ID office and received a new card with a truly shitty picture of me on it (think autistic child molester). I thanked the 17year old co-op as I wondered what it would take to change jobs with him and my hand to god not five minutes later I discover that I had lost my monthly train pass, my $135 monthly train pass.

I was so annoyed with myself for losing my pass and with SEPTA for charging me $135 to ride on a loud, hot, crowded. uncomfortable train for an hour everyday that I decided not to replace my card but to start driving to work instead. I figured if I get in to the city early enough I won’t have to pay for parking and somehow between all the free parking and the really good gas mileage I get I might end up even or maybe a little bit a head by month end.

And it went well – I realized that because of my hours its actually less time in the car than in the train and I don’t have to pay to park my car at the station and I can leave work and go directly to pre school without any delays.

Maybe I got cocky, who knows but just a few days after realizing that maybe I don’t need a train pass I was getting out of my car one morning and my phone mysteriously jumped out my of suit pocket and landed on the cement sidewalk instantly shattering in three places.

I swear to all of you it was like some kind of cosmic miracle – I never touched the phone, it sits in that pocket all the time and has never once jumped for no reason.

The good news now is that I believe I have once again regained stasis – I can get myself into work (and I suppose the gym if I ever find out where it is) but I can only see about 17% of my phone screen. Maybe if I get my phone fixed I can trip and fall and throw our garage door opener into the creek behind our house…

The end of the Internet, Stuff in my Bra and the Latest Addition to our Family

I read last week that the internet is full – there is something like four million IP addresses left. I’m not sure that I really understand what the problem is – why not just add four digits at the end, you know like the post office did? But part of me thinks, ‘shit I really better utilize my little corner of the internet to its fullest’. You know?

This spring has been very busy for us, with both work issues, new house projects, and  questions like “how many numbers are there?” and “How do ants take a bath?” I also vowed a few months ago to be more creative with my evenings and started painting which has paid ten fold when Lucy told me last week that when she grows up she wants to “be an artist like Mommy”.

Sometimes I fool myself in to thinking I really have it all together. Today I went to work, after a stop at the dentist for a thorough teeth cleaning. I worked all day, picked Lucy up , stopped by the vets to collect a very very pissed off cat (more on that later). Went home, played a rousing game of CandyLand before making very healthy Asian chicken lettuce wraps for dinner. I managed to clean the kitchen, coax the cat out from under the guest bed and was feeling  pretty proud of myself… Until I found three light bright bulbs in my bra. In my bra? It raised so many questions: had they been there all day? Why three? Was this the object of the dental assistants snicker as she laid me back in the dental chair? Was this something Lucy sneaked in to my shirt when I was letting her get to CandyLand before I did? How did I not notice that happening? Or had they been living inside the lining of my bra for months? I honestly cant remember the last time I let her play with the light bright. (Note to all my friends with small kids – the light bright is not a good toy for anyone under ten.)

Whenever you think your finally a step ahead you should really take a closer look in your underwear and reevaluate the situation. That’s my gift to you.

In other news there is a new man in my life:

Spalding Grey-kitty

His name is Spalding Gray-Kitty and he is both handsome and sweet. He came to live with us a few weeks ago and I really couldn’t be happier. He is so much different than Ruka and I think that’s okay, she would have hated him as she hated… almost everything – but with Spalding I can put my feet on the floor and not be afraid that they will be instantly bitten, he doesn’t wake us up at 4:00am with his insensate meowing, and I have to bribe him to get up on the furniture.  But he’s already attached to us, he follows us around the house and waits by the door when we get home, of course all that could change depending on if he ever forgives me for the castration I subjected him to today… tough love Spalding tough love.

The rest of our life is pure chaos and non stop talking that it is nice to sit and pet something warm and quiet. One night last week I offered Lucy $1,000 for five minutes of silence. Just five minutes, she didn’t last 15 seconds, which I guess is good since I would have had to pay her in grapes and she’s smart enough now to recognize that grapes aren’t money. Stupid three year old savviness – there was a time just a second ago that I could have convinced her pebbles where currency. It’s all down hill from here my friends.

Unexplained Phenomena

There’s something really weird going on with me lately and I seem powerless to stop whatever it is. I feel like I’m too young for either a midlife crises or the ‘change of life’, but then again perhaps I’m deluding myself when I estimate my life expectancy to be 120 years.

Three major things have stuck out in my mind. I’ve started painting again. This is unusual because while I try to inject some type of creativity into my day to day routine, it has been over 20 years since I had actual tubes of paint and good brushes. I haven’t gessoed a canvas or thought about perspective in several decades. In fact it took me over an hour to simply remember how to put my easel back together… It’s weird but not entirely without merit, here are my first two mini projects that are the first part of a bigger project I’ve been ‘commissioned’ to do:

Red Flower

Blue Flower

I wouldn’t say I’m ready to have a showing but perhaps I’ll open an Etsy store and make some extra cash to pay off my looming student loan debt. And wouldn’t it be ironic if the six months of art school I was in before I dropped out went to pay for the six years of undergrad and graduate work that I did?

The second most disturbing thing that’s happened lately is that I attended my first official Yoga class. Now, I’ve done Yoga before especially when I was pregnant in the privacy of my own home where all new age-y things should occur, but last Wednesday in an effort to foster a better work/life balance I donned a pair of yoga pants mid day and headed to the University gym to downward face dog in a room full of 19 year olds. Nothing makes you feel older than this scenario. And just for the record, I don’t think its for me, it took FOREVER and the 20 minutes we spent relaxing and clearing our mind was 20 minutes I spent anxious over work piling up on my desk… (I may have missed the point). Next Wednesday I’m going to kettle bell class which is only 30 minutes long and I have a feeling will burn just as many calories and not make me feel like I’ve spent an eternity with younger more flexible versions of myself.

The third and last weird thing is that I went shoe shopping this weekend. I went shoe shopping for like an hour all by myself. I’ve been hoarding gift cards (thanks to my super generous in laws) and I decided it was high time that I spent them. And I ended up buying these:

sandals

I love them, they are beautiful, impractical and kinda hurt (although I’m hoping they only need to be broken in a little). I’ve worn them non stop since I got back home Saturday evening. Any one who knows me or has heard my ‘practical shoe’ speech before knows how totally out of character this is. It might be totally out of character but when I’m in them I can reach things in the cupboard on top of the refrigerator.

I will keep you abreast of any other personality anomalies – I know this is ‘edge of your seat’ sort of stuff…

 

 

Thanks millennials for keeping it real

I know it seems lately that my entire life is completely filled with dealing with my strongly opinionated melodramatic daughter, but alas this is not true. I have an entire 40 minutes I spend on the train everyday where I can contemplate things like politics, the environment or the personal grooming practices of my fellow riders.

Usually I spend this time immersed in any number of poorly written chick-lit books as to stop the real world from seeping in to my candy-land colored existence. Oh – how I hate you reality. But every once in a while, despite my constant vigilance, real world events seep into my paradigm.

Take for example the “polar vortex”. First, WTF? I know that most people really don’t care about science. I know that money to support scientific research can be hard to find.  Because of this I think scientist everywhere try to invent fancy names for things. Fancy names to make people care. Fancy names that back when I was a kid were simply referred to as “winter”.

Now – I don’t have an exceptionally good memory of my childhood – many events and day to day occurrences are blacked out and hopefully never surface unless through hypnosis or deep psycho analysis (neither of which I would ever subject myself to). But I do remember some things, I remember getting ready for school in the morning and hoping against hope that the thermostat outside would reach a double digits (because it’s so much warmer at 12 degrees than at 8?).

I remember walking to the bus stop when it was so cold that it hurt to inhale air into my lungs. I remember finally getting on the bus and my hands would be bright red and would burn the entire 35 minute ride from the cold outside. Now admittedly, I was too cool or just too dumb to properly attire myself during this time in my life. I wore an unlined leather bomber jacket most days, a jacket that my Mom inconceivably bought for me at some fine outdoor clothier like ‘fashion bug’. I wore this with no gloves or hats or scarves. I was cool damnit.

And yet, I survived, I survived despite my stupidity, I survived despite the fact that we lived in one of the coldest areas in the contiguous United States. I survived even though school never closed because of the cold. The colder it got the more impervious we acted. It’s honestly amazing the tips of my fingers aren’t black…

But now that I am older and oh so much wiser I have invested in a warm sub zero winter parka and all the accessorizing trimmings that go along with it. Earlier this week when I was all bundled up and the mercury never got above 20 I still saw students walking around campus in short shorts with nothing heavier than a hoodie. It warms my heart.

If you give a three-year old a muffin

If you give a three year old a muffin chances are that she’ll want to help you make them.

So you let her help, and she will immediately pour milk all down the front of her.

So you’ll send her upstairs to change her clothes.

She’ll come back 27 minutes later in a pair of underroos and stripped leg warmers.

You’ll send her back upstairs.

She’ll come back with a matching pink tutu and a tiara, she’ll ask for a snack.

You’ll remind her you are making muffins, because by now she’s completely forgotten.

She’ll ask you what kind of muffins your making, you’ll tell her blueberry.

That will remind her of Blueberry’s for Sal and she’ll run back upstairs to get it.

Two minutes later you’ll hear her yelling “no stop it! Stop it!”

You’ll go upstairs and find out that she’s screaming at her evil twin that lives in the mirror in her bedroom.

You’ll remind her again that the mirror is simply a reflection of herself.

At this point the smoke detector will go off from the burning muffins you also forgot about.

Your three year old will freak out and try to run outside in her underroos.

You will hold her in one arm while climbing onto the living room side table to turn off the smoke detector.

Right at that moment she will remember the muffins and want one really bad.

So you will drive to Starbucks, buy her a blueberry muffin while you doctor up your vanilla latte to get rid of your raging headache.

burnt muffin

Michelangelo would be proud

Most of the time my office is pretty crazy, it’s like I get to work and 50 people are yelling “run Becca, run faster! Run up that hill, run! run! run!” and I spend the morning sprinting and sweating and in general feeling like I’m not fast enough. And then there is a sweet hour in the middle of the day that is just for me – and during that hour my one friend at work and I commiserate how much all of the running sucks and we give each other pep talks and eat lots of frozen yogurt to build up our strength and then we put our heads down and run back into the melee.

But this week we seem to have hit some kind of mid summer research doldrums, like we are in the middle of the Atlantic waiting for NSF to call… So, I have had some down time which has been weird but nice so I thought I would pay some attention to this website. Not that I’m writing this at work – if you are reading this and I work with you I’m totally not writing this at work, I’m sure that violates some kind of University policy, also if you read this and I work with you how did you get here? You should not know this page exists and I am not the Becca that you think I am.

Tomorrow  my one friend (see above) leaves for vacation and I am frantically trying to figure out how to fill my one sweet hour in the middle of the day.  I’m afraid if I don’t plan some things than I will end up working at my desk and forgetting to look up and take a breath, like that one time when she called out sick. To that end I have made  lunchtime appointment to get some waxing done. This reminds me of my favorite blonde joke:

A man sits down next to a blonde on a plane, she is reading the newspaper and visibly upset, he glances at the headline which reads “Six Brazilian dead in plane crash” She tearily looks over at him and says “How many is a Brazilian?”

I can say these things, I’m totally blonde – also I wanted a nice segway to telling you that I’m getting all of my lady parts waxed. I’ve never done this before and I’m terrified, not of the pain or the procedure but because the woman who I go to scares the ever-loving bejesus out of me. Her name is Mila, she from somewhere deep inside the soviet bloc, she once called me a baby when my eyes watered while waxing my eyebrows. There are few people who instill fear in me as much as Mila and now I have an appointment to take my pants off in front of her. Good lord.

I’m doing this mostly because it scares me and its been over a year since I had to undergo any serious and painful surgerys and at least 18 years since my last tatoo. Sidenote – I also really want to get another tattoo but I’m indecisive and about what and where, I feel like I might be too old and too Mom to really go crazy. Also did you know you could get your tounge tattooed? I have so many questions about this photo but the first one would be ‘why not the sistine chapel?’ – be classy people!Crazy Tattoo Tumblr

Writers block… block chock frock mock

Me: Dude, you need to update the website, it‘s been nearly a month…

My brain: Um stop calling me dude and what is there to write about? Few people care about your hair – writing an entire post about losing Lucy in Target only makes you internet prey for bored DHS workers and you can only complain about the cold and darkness of winter so many times….

Me: You could talk about my new found obsession with Greek yogurt

My brain: This is so lame, I’m going to stop listening to you now.

Me: Lots of people love Greek yogurt, its very in right now.

My brain: La, la, la… do you even hear yourself ?

Me: We could talk about…uh… are you sure no one cares about my hair? It’s shorter and darker.

My Brain: I’m going to make an egg salad sandwich – you let me know when you come up with something.

Me: I don’t think I own any red clothes, I look good in red. Make a note to do something about that.

My Brain: Huh? Are you still talking to me.

 

In summary: my brain likes egg salad

 

lazy after Christmas re-post

Today I made it to the big league by finally being allowed to write for one of my favorite websites,  you can check it out here: http://www.thewvsr.com(especially if you hate Monkeys as much as I do!)  I encourage you to go back often, Jeff always has something entertaining…

Because many of you clicking through here today are first time readers I’m using this as an excuse to re-post one of my favorites from a couple years ago. for those of you who are regular readers, please enjoy an oldie but goodie:

Digression
originally posted April 2011

Barney Stinson has a theory about releasing anger called the pyramid of screaming, for those of you who watch how I met your Mother you know exactly what I’m talking about, for those of you living under a large heavy rock, here is an excerpt from his blog explain the pyramid of screaming:

THE CHAIN CIRCLE PYRAMID OF SCREAMING

(4/14/08)

HEY STUPID BLOG READERS!!! WHY DON’T YOU READ MY BLOG MORE?!?! Sorry. My boss screamed at me over a few missing schematics and I had to release some steam. Why didn’t I yell at my boss and not at you? Because that would be dumb, idiot.

You see, we all learn as children that screaming leads to results, and it’s no different in the workplace. America was built on the backs of men and women who were yelled at to work harder, and the tradition has been screamed from generation to generation. But you can’t just scream at anybody… that would be counter-productive. That’s why it’s imperative you understand where you stand on the Pyramid of ScreamingTM.

What exactly is the Pyramid of ScreamingTM?

The Pyramid of ScreamingTM is a societal rubric that dismisses the parlor tricks of the Chain of Screaming, Scream Ladder, South Beach Screaming, and other methodologies and focuses on the golden rule of scream etiquette: You can only scream beneath you.

To illustrate how it works, here’s the scream pyramid for a professional football team:

http://www.cbs.com/primetime/how_i_met_your_mother/community/barney_blog/index.php

I bring this up because I’m not a huge fan of screaming but I am a proponent of this whole circle chain pyramid idea… I believe that it’s healthy to pass on the annoyance you get from one party onto another party – that way you don’t let all that angst get pent up inside of you…

Let me illustrate with my own example:

When I was in my early twenties (just a couple years ago) and lived in California I belonged to 24 hour fitness, perhaps the most annoying gym on the planet. I had the cheapest membership they offered and could only get into the gym on something like Tuesday and Thursday afternoons (perfect for me – built in excuse not to work out). But, the people that worked there were most exceptionally annoying. Every time I checked in I was bombarded with requests to upgrade my membership, or to buy their shirts, or to sign up for their towel service or some way give them more money.

And it wasn’t just the front desk – trainers would walk around and interrupt me on the Stairmaster and give me great advise about how more effective my work outs could be if I signed up for personal training sessions… Personal training sessions at $99 an hour (clearly these people didn’t understand I was bringing in $9.00 an hour and riding my bike to work because I couldn’t afford to put gas in my car).  I was constantly annoyed the entire time I was in that place and since I didn’t want to be full of angst all up inside me I would call them… I would call and have conversations like this:

Me: “What time are you open?

Them” This is 24 hour fitness”

Me: “So… you’ll be open when I get out of work?”

Them: “24 hours ma’am”

Me: “But I don’t think I’ll be able to leave until late tonight – like probably around 6:15, and then I might want to eat dinner, do you think I should eat dinner before I work out because I might be pretty hungry by then”

Them: “I don’t really know”

Me: “So, if I decide to eat dinner I probably won’t get there until 7:30, will you be open then?”

Them: “Yes”

Me: “Is Doug working today?

Them: “He’s out on the floor in a personal training session”

Me: “I really need to talk to him”

Them: “Are you just going to ask him how late me are open?

Me: “No”

(repeat above conversation)

I would do this over and over again – calling back to get different receptionist. My theory is they annoy me, I should return the favor – and I didn’t feel like I should pass this annoyance onto my friends and since I was making $9.00/hour there was clearly no one ‘under’ me which I could do this through work.

Which brings me to yesterday.

Yesterday I had an exceptionally bad day at work and left the office with angst building up like a pressure cooker inside of me. On my way home I thought & thought of people who deserve to be annoyed in return and immediately I decided upon the local 7-11 that I often go to while at the office.

You see this 7-11 is staffed by people bordering on hostile. I have had several altercations with them – once resulting in them chasing me through their parking lot… that’s a whole different post. But let me assure you they deserve to be in my pyramid.

So – I called and asked them to look and see how many hot dogs they had on their grill. It turns out they only had one lonely one leftover from lunch – so I politely asked if them would please put 3 dozen more on to cook because my son’s peewee hockey team just finished their last game and I was going to surprise them all with 7-11 hot dogs (their favorite!). I would be there in 20 minutes. I assured them I was for real and that I would see them soon…

See? Don’t you feel better? I do.

A couple of disconnected thoughts

Today’s piece of useless knowledge on my iGoogle homepage is “The male sea lion may have more than 100 wives.”  It’s interesting because I had no idea that sea lions had a marriage ceremony.

Today I registered a new student to our schools whose name is… Remington Steele. Really? It makes me think of this: http://daddy-drinks.com/2012/09/24/name-envy/ every new parent should really think twice…

I decided a little while ago that in an effort to make my commute more tolerable I would start listening to audio books and now I am obsessed with audio books… I just finished my first one and am anxiously awaiting my next. The only problem is that I have completely lost touch with the real world. The radio was my last tenuous  connection to anything remotely newsworthy. I only watch DVRd TV in the evening, I fast forward through commercials like its an Olympic sport, I am barely conscience of the upcoming… um… election. This morning I had a sad reality check when Perez Hilton told me about Amanda Bines’s last hit and run… these are events I need to know about people.

This is what happens when I go to the post office at lunch…

One of the 43,000 things I do not understand is why postal workers feel compelled to educate you on the inner workings of the priority mail weight calculations or the exact regulations of what qualifies for media mail. Does this happen to everyone or do I simply look exceptionally interested in the mail? I once had a job where I spent hours/days/weeks at the post office and everyday it seemed like I was lectured to about bulk mailing weights and whatnot. And then, of course, there was the time where I was practically forced to join a crooked pyramid scheme (but that’s another post for another day).

Today I went to the post office and was schooled on how California has a different way of calculating first class mail and how I could pay less if I wanted to mail something heavier. I told her I didn’t have anything else that needed to go but at that moment I had a brief insight into her life outside of the USPS, sitting down eating dinner with her husband as she chirps excitedly, “today we got an internal memo that California is going to start calculating their first class mail differently – we had to re-calibrate all of the scales…!” as her husbands eyes glaze over and he reaches for the remote and she decides that perhaps she should impart this wisdom on someone actually AT the post office. It’s probably a lot like being a nuclear physicist, who else can you talk to but other nuclear physicists?

In other news, I stopped at Wawa to get lunch and decided on a fruit & cheese platter with hummus on the side, apparently my brain was already on happy hour mode at 11:45am.

Return of daily* random thoughts

I love bacon – I’m not really sure why more things aren’t infused with it – like butter or kale. I don’t think I’m alone in my dream of one day being able to walk into my local Target and picking up a bottle of bacon scented bubble bath… I think when people argue whose the bigger super power, us or China they should keep in mind who invented the loaded bake potato.

I do not have many skills, when people ask me what I’m good I really need to reach and say things like “I have very neat penmanship” or “I can drink an entire bottle of wine with dinner”  so far, none of these ‘accomplishments’ have landed me a job or gotten me a date (ok, maybe that last one)… Some people can speak multiple languages, or operate on new-born babies. It makes me glad that no one has had the need to put me in charge of the UN or insisted that I cut them open.

Ever since my surgery I feel like my the amount of random chin hairs that sprout on my face from time to time has dramatically increased. It makes me wonder if there is a connection between ones small intestines and facial hair follicles.

*Daily in this instance equates to sporadic

non sequitur

While visiting my lady doctor this morning for my yearly violation I was asked by her medical assistant what I did for a living. I paused for probably like 5 seconds too long and then said (for the first time ever) “I’m a… librarian” I thought for a minute that maybe she wouldn’t believe me – that she’d think I was trying to deceive her. I pictured in my head a scene right out of the  Princess Bride where she turned to me like Miracle Max and yelled “LIAR! LIAR!” and I ended up mumbling dejectedly “I’m not a witch – I’m a librarian” I don’t know why my mind always reverts to things like this… I am mean I am a librarian it’s just that I’ve never uttered it out loud until now. But instead she looked at me and said “oh, cool.”

Did you know it’s cool to be a librarian?

Back when I lived in California I had several lesbian friends and their code word for lesbian was ‘librarian’. They would invite me places and I would say things like “This isn’t one of those librarian parties is it?” (It always was).

I’m afraid for the rest of my life every time I say I’m a librarian everyone is going to secretly label me as a lesbian.

Sometimes I just need to get out of my own head.

100!!!

It has taken me one year and seven days but I have done it – I have gotten to the 100th post. I wish I had something interesting to write about…

Seems like I should mark this occasion with something memorable – I was hoping to do it in the form of a subtle announcement of newly gained riches but alas the mega millions has alluded me just like every other lottery opportunity I have extensively explored in the past six months. But really who needs the headache of managing hundreds of millions of dollars… makes me tired just thinking of all of the phone calls I would have to avoid for the rest of my life. Of course anyone who really knows me would counter with the fact that I never answer my phone now and my current financial situation often finds me browsing at BJs for a lunch of mini quiches. Maybe things wouldn’t change that much, I could just stop hoarding so many free samples.

In other news Lucy learned to do a somersault all by herself last night, it was pretty awesome how excited she was and how very weary the animals are now of having her feet randomly landing on them. It will be awhile before she understands the spatial requirements for rolling her entire body over her head.

Yesterday in a job interview I was asked by one of the directors of the organization “what is wrong with you? I mean I’ll know in six months anyway, you might as well tell me now…” I answered with “I am just so awesome, no one really understands how awesome I am. If you hire me, in six months we will go to lunch and you will tell me that you now understand how hard it is to be me and live in this world of mediocrity.” My career coach has been constantly telling me I can’t have any modesty in job interviews. I really hope I get a call back…

To conclude this random hodgepodge of disjoined thoughts, I would like to leave you with this – Lucy from 1 year and 7 days ago & Lucy now:

Lucy and Dad March 2011

Lucy on Dad March 2012

A small peep show into my brain

Below are randomly coppied snippets of emails sent from me between yesterday and April 2010. There is no logical reason or need for these and they are in no particular order. Someday I will get my act together and write a real post in the meantime…

Did you know that Mr. Clean magic erasers will take the finger nail polish right off of your fingernails? I think this is something you should know and something I just recently discovered when I became obsessed with cleaning the shit out of my stove this morning and went through two entire extra strength erasers and one very pretty, very red christmas manicure. Please make a note.

~~~

My husband is, at this very minute, in the kitchen grilling me up some giant slab of steak and making creamy mashed potatoes with enough butter to stop my heart. I love that man. I have gotten myself all ready – wearing sweatpants and a hoodie – actually I am wearing sweatpants because I spilled like half a glass of wine on my favorite jeans when I was feeding Lucy dinner and I took them off instantly to clean the stain and throw them in the wash because I have no money to buy new favorite jeans…

 ~~~

Thanks for liking my new website – do you have any idea how much jam and wet paper towels I went through to get that shot that is the header? A lot, a whole lot – Lucy was sticky for days – well for one day, she does get a really good bath every night. Although if I ever decide to give her giant globs of jam to play with again I will do it in the evening you know right before bath time and not right after breakfast so she’s sticky all day. My friend Jen was over that afternoon and says “Um, why does Lucy have jam in her neck?” huh. weird.

 ~~~

P.S.I just reread this email – it is a grammatical nightmare that just rambles on and on – please note that I am on my 5th glass on wine. I would retype it but I’m too lazy and I’m not sure that it would come out any better…

 ~~~

I have back heartburn – do you ever get that – it kinda feels like someone is stabbing you from the inside right between your shoulder blades? I hate when the people who live inside of me get mad – it hurts like a son of a bitch.

 ~~~

I am very excited because in a crazy panic today I went and got my hair cut (when don’t I get my hair cut in a crazy panic?)… Anyway – its all cute and blown dried and I have bangs, I have bangs like this photo of Reese Witherspoon…. I actually just went in there and said “Hi, Lisa – my hair has been in a pony tail for 12 months now – please make me look like Reese Witherspoon”… Never having met Lisa before she was a little taken aback… But whatever she gave me a great haircut and then I got my eyebrows waxed – apparently EVERY woman in the world does this… the woman who waxed them for me took one look at my face and said “good god” and then basically asked what was wrong with me – I told her I thought that when they were plucked for my wedding they looked nice and she raises an eyebrow and says “you still married?” (in her crazy, thick Ukrainian accent). And then when I was done she said “You see – you have pretty eyes, they are blue – I did not see them before…”

 ~~~

Today may or may not be your birthday – if you were paying attention yesterday you would know that despite my remarkable memory and my knowledge of useless facts like that sea turtles can’t produce offspring until they are 25 years old… I cannot for the life of me remember which day your birthday is. Maybe it was yesterday and you went out and had a great time and drank so much that you forgot to email me. In which case I forgive you, if yesterday wasn’t your birthday and you didn’t go out and party like it was 1999 than I’m super mad and will never forgive you – because you know I need my daily email.  Anywho – Happy birthday if its applicable.

 ~~~

At home, things are fine – last weekend we finally bought good patio chairs – swivel mesh rocking things – they are so comfy that I’m trying to spend as much time outside as possible especially since its getting nice here. Lucy continues to get more and more adorable and I am now thinking that it probably would have been easier/better to have an ugly kid since I fear this is only going to make trouble for all of us as she gets older – but there’s really nothing I can do about that since I am unwilling to burn her with acid or anything.

 ~~~

I’m starting to feel better – like my cold has gone, which is kind of a bummer because there, too, goes my excuse for daily shots of nyquil. I would continue to take it anyway except I’m pretty sure Lucy gets a healthy dose of it for breakfast in the morning – it does make her mellow and easy, but I worry about ‘development’ you know – because I read stuff.

 ~~~

And that about brings you up to speed – I just went to get my afternoon cup of coffee and poured a whole quart of milk all over the hallway (carpeted) in the office. That really illustrates how my day is going…

 ~~~

I guess that all the news from the east side – I feel like I should have more exciting stuff to regale you with – but I can’t think of anything. I’m tired and pregnant and live from one meal to the next (I had a chocolate chip muffin for breakfast and a grilled chicken pita for lunch if you would like to know) I plan on having leftover chili for dinner tonight.

Another Hair Brained Scheme

When I’m in the shower it’s my ‘thinking’ time, I do most of my best introspecting  when standing under hot water and can’t hear baby cries or phone calls.

I just have one problem, I tend to lose track of the progression of the showering cycle and usually end up washing my hair like 4 or 5 times… Here is a brief example:

“La la la la la…” this is me signing Dayman from It’s always sunny in Philadelphia – but I change Dayman to Bathman and make it into a great shower singing lyrical.
And Then:
“Huh, it’s funny that this nail polish looks brown in the shower, it’s really more purple downstairs – it is called hot cocoa, it really should be brown.”
And Then:
“I wonder if I’ve washed my hair yet? Oh well, I’ll just do it now”
And Then:
“Turkey Tetrazzinni sounds so fancy, but it’s just turkey and pasta – I wonder what Tetrazzinni means? I should google that.”
And then:
I like black out for 4.5 minutes, just immersed in the sensation of hot water
And then:
“I wonder if I’ve washed my hair yet? Oh well, I’ll just do it now”
And then:
“I wonder if I’ve washed my hair yet? Oh well, I’ll just do it now”

I don’t know if any of you can relate to this, but it is my life. In an effort to cut down on the expense of washing my hair like 3 times a day (or every other day, who am I kidding, I don’t have a job) I want to invent a system of keeping track of where you are in the cycle of showering – you know like a traffic light. Green is shampooed (you just hit that with your elbow when you rinse) Yellow is conditioned, Red is washed and then maybe their could be a fourth color (blue?) that comes on about 5 minutes after you’ve hit the first 3 and this means “now you are just wasting water and goofing off – go do something.”

Feedback would be great – is this a problem only I have? I need to know before I start production.

And now for something completly pointless…

Lucy is sick – which means I am sick – which means it’s time once again to abuse one of my favorite drugs… Nyquil. I would, however, like to make a suggestion to my friends at Vicks. Instead of using obscure dosing instructions (how much is 2 tsp. really? Is that a big swallow or a little swallow? I’m not a scientist). I think it would be better to use language everyone can understand like: “A bottle this size should last you at least 5 days” or “If you finish this bottle within 36 hours you should consult a doctor” or “If you wake up more than twice during the night coughing and decide to keep taking more of this product there is a good chance that you won’t hear your child when s/he wakes up in the morning.”

Just a few things to keep in mind Vicks – if you decide to update your label.

~~~

Saturday night I had a chance to get out of the house and hang out with some friends for a good old fashion girls night. It was wonderful to talk and catch up with them. And as much as I love my husband (and I do!) it’s a refreshing change to chat with people who don’t giggle every time I say the word ‘duty’.

 ~~~

Is it just me or does it seems wrong that people buying a house in Canada should be included in “International House Hunters”?

Deep Thought Thursday

Things I have  learned discovered in the recent past:

Yesterday morning in the shower for no apparent reason “Devil Inside” popped into my head and it kicked off a long internal rambling monologue that ended with the realization that INXS is a word play for  in excess – sometimes it takes me 20 years to draw conclusions most people get right away.

Last weekend I found out that it is inadvisable to wash your windshield when your sun roof is open… good to know.

I am in the middle of reading Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi – it’s a very good book, a veritable page turner about what she (and probably most female actors) go through to stay thin in Hollywood. It really makes you think about our society as a whole and our unconscious expectations. But what is really makes me wonder, is why can’t I have the strength of will and determination to develop an eating disorder? I simply don’t have the staying power… so sad.

Because living in a wagon would be awesome…

On my drive home last night I saw what appeared to be a band of gypsies huddled under the bridge across the street from the zoo (it was raining really hard, thus the huddling). I thought briefly of stopping and asking if they were taking on any new members. I thought leaving my office job and raising Lucy in a caravan of old gypsy souls might be just the thing that I was searching for, but as I slowed down I began to notice their rag-tag appearance, the notable lack of shoes on their kids and the serious deficiency of teeth in the adults. Upon closer inspection I realized that perhaps these wernt gypsies after all but just a group of Philadelphia homeless that had happened upon some brightly covered scarves.

Disappointed I continued on my way thinking that perhaps I should cast a further net than just the corner of Girard and 34th streets if I want to find a true band of gypsies and also maybe I should clear this with my husband before I quit my job and buy some long skirts.

Note to self: find out when the circus comes to town.

A love note in binary

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